Transcendence
by C.C. Machevelli
Summary: As time goes by, Carmen's crimes begin to slow down. Plagued by dreams and thoughts of retirement, she begins to plan her last chase when her path crosses that of a brilliant experimental virologist turned international terrorist, Dr. Ariosto Karyos. Trou


Part One: Forboding Intuitions  
  
She opened her eyes slowly and allowed her thoughts to settle within a confused state of mind.  
  
All was shadowed in a grey cast, a slow breeze rustled leaves in a circular trail and scratched along the concrete at her feet. A cool sensation rushed across her skin as she looked once again at the scene before her, and nothing had changed.  
  
Something was terribly wrong.  
  
Carmen felt her heart quicken a moment before she decided to proceed into this foriegn landscape, suspiciously observing the deserted terrain. In the distance, the sky darkened as a thunderhead loomed near the horizon, growing in strength as it slowly approached. A brisk wind whipped through her red trenchcoat and she shivered as the stinging sensation of her own hair lashed against her face. Red?  
  
No, everything was still grey.  
  
That couldn't be right...  
  
She held out her hand and stared at it with intense concentration, as if unsure what her memory revealed to her. No color was present, merely the delicate shading of grey and black. Her gaze seemed to focus upon the minute grooves that ran along the top of her hand, and for a moment she felt a loss for words.  
  
She reached up and removed her hat to make sure, for some reason her very logic had betrayed her. It was also void of color, possessing the same detailed shadowing. Her fingertips traced along the edge of the brim as she pondered this new concept and searched mentally for it's cause.  
  
Why was she wearing this? The last thing she remembered was...  
  
A deep rumble broke her mental siloquey and she could see the storm gaining quickly closer to her. It moved at a speed that was equally unreasonable, almost surreal in its rolling blackened blanket of cumulus, bursts of subdued light illuminating within it's form.  
  
There was something more to all of this, an instinctive caution set in and a suddened heightening of awareness became apparent.  
  
Another gust of wind ran through her as she raised her arms to shield her face from the pelting particles of dust which accompanied the onslaught, her grasp on her trademark fedora weakened, and it swept away into the distance.  
  
The air died down as suddenly as it had started, and Carmen cautiously lowered her arm, a startled curiosity rooting firmly into her subconscience. Nothing made sense anymore, yet a sudden intrigue drew her attention.  
  
She walked slowly toward the place where the hat had settled in the grass, the thick billows of grey stalks undulating to and fro within the breeze. She knelt down momentarily to retrieve it when a sudden wave of nausea weighted itself in her stomach and the sound of lightning swelled in the remote confines of her mind.  
  
As she looked up, everything had changed.  
  
She stepped back with an astonished gasp and fought desperately to close her mind to the images which played before her eyes.  
  
Not again...please, not again...  
  
Her form trembled in a familiar fear, shaken and volatile yet unable to dismiss the scene that exploited new terror in the confines of a subdued awareness.  
  
The scene had played more than once in the darkest moments in her life.  
  
Lee Jordan had held a grudge towards her ever since she had aided ACME for his capture. An insane jealousy seemed to have driven him to torment her one last time when an impossible choice had been offered to her.  
  
Destroy that from which you came.  
  
Or I will destroy the only hope you will ever have at finding the one thing you long to have.  
  
Tears began to stream down her face as she struggled to block the vivid allusion from her sight, finding herself unable to stop the mental imagery.  
  
There had been no choice.  
  
The prospect presented to her had been an impossible task, yet she had been pressured to act swiftly. The straining stares of all burned through her soul, and it was in that moment that she had made her decision.  
  
In a last attempt to escape, Malcolm Avalon had been pushed from the rooftop, her heart stopping for an eternal point in time. Instantaneously, it was over, and a bruised battered form gazed intently upon her as she rushed to meet it, half expecting the worst and yet a glimmer of hope still longed for the illogical.  
  
The eyes which met hers were void of emotion, as they fixated and barely widened in a dull look, the air growing colder around her as the wind began to pick up its brisk tempo and a simple question cut her innermost psyche to the core,  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
Carmen stiffened with horror as her very breath seized within her lungs and she found herself unable to reply. Reason no longer held its grasp on her as she turned and fled, the air itself piercing her flesh. She ran, hysterical and panic-stricken until she lost her footing in the strange landscape and felt the impact of her body as it struck the ground.  
  
For a moment, the nightmare appeared to end.  
  
She buried her face against the sharp blades of grass and breathed heavily as the scent of newly disturbed soil flooded her senses. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to lose control. She cried softly a first, and then deeper sobs of grief overwhelmed her, the same interrogative plaguing her mind,  
  
Who are you?  
  
Who am I?  
  
Her head pounded from the possibilities and it was then that she stopped, her breathing wavering and still staggered.  
  
What have I become?  
  
The questions were growing more complex, and she let out a long troubled sigh.  
  
You can't run forever.  
  
Yes I can.  
  
This makes absolutely no sense.  
  
Yes it does. It makes perfect sense.  
  
Why are you contradicting yourself?  
  
Stop analysing yourself.  
  
Stop avoiding the question.  
  
Do you know who you are?  
  
Leave me alone.  
  
You really don't know, do you?  
  
This is ridiculous. I am having an arguement with myself...I know perfectly well who I am. I have made myself into the person which I have become. I am strong and resolute within the contruction of my experience.  
  
What about the foundation, Carmen? Many formidable structures have been built upon weak foundations. Tell me, how many of them still stand?  
  
No reply.  
  
I'm waiting...  
  
Go to hell...  
  
Oooh, that was one of your more brilliant thoughts.  
  
I am what I have made myself.  
  
And that is?...  
  
Powerful, legendary and enigmatic.  
  
And miserable.  
  
There was too much truth in the last thought, it echoed throughout the confines of her brain and sought to tear it apart with a wretched agony.  
  
I have betrayed all those who have ever trusted me.  
  
I betray my very own thoughts.  
  
A chill shook her from within, her skin once again tingling with a bitter ache. Her fingernails dug carelessly into the cool earth and she stared mindlessly at her hand. A vibrant realization hit her consciousness and she comprehended the color red on her cuff and it flooded her senses with a subtle veracity.  
  
I am Carmen Sandiego, the greatest thief who has ever lived.  
  
Exactly. You are what you have made yourself. And when you are dead and gone, that is what you will be remembered as. A criminal.  
  
I don't care.  
  
You do care. Otherwise you'd have sunk to lower depths.  
  
I had my reasons.  
  
I'm responsible for who I am.  
  
Go ahead, betray yourself once again and deny it.  
  
Stop this, there is no conclusion for this line of thought. I have cornered myself once again into a double bind.  
  
A drop of rain thudded against the ground by her fingers, and another fell against her cheek. Immediately, a torrent of freezing rain pelted against her body, now curled in the forsaken grassland.  
  
I did this to myself.  
  
A crack of lightning struck the ground nearby a with forceful intensity and she cringed and felt her body twitch timidly from deep inside.  
  
In an instant, she sat up, her perception clearing while her subconscience flooded and her knuckles turned white, gripping the soft satin of sweat drenched bedsheets tight, unable to accept the grim reality of a continuing awareness.  
  
Her voice barely audible, she softly whispered in an unchallenged clarity,  
  
"I did this to myself." 


End file.
